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by kammad42
Summary: Carl/OC. Marie has survived the worst. She's seen all of her friends and loved ones die. When she stumbles across a prison in the middle of nowhere, will she finally belong? Especially when she befriends a boy living there. Will their relationship last?


Growls. Growls and snarls. That's all that surrounded me. I grip my machete in my hand as I fly past the trees in the dark. They're barely visible, as are the roamers constantly following me. Hands reach out inches away from me. Branches and twigs scratch at my cheeks and clothes. A scream rips through my throat as I pass right by one on the ground. It luckily hadn't managed to grab me.

As they came in front of me, I slashed my way through them with my sword, desperate to find an escape. Just for a few minutes. A few seconds, even, of not being attacked by the undead.

I almost cried out in relief when I tore through the trees and came across a giant space with fences surrounding the building enclosed inside of it. Roamers piled up against them, but it was as good of a place as any right now.

I place my hands on my knees, giving myself five seconds to catch my breath before fighting through my burning lungs and racing towards it. At the front, a big red gate sits between the fences with sharp, wooden spikes around it. I slice my machete through any roamers blocking the path, then bang on the door.

The sound echoes, and I instantly regret it. At least half of the roamers turn and look at me. I curse as my eyes widen. A light catches my attention from the corner of my eye and I pull out my pistol and shoot the first one closest to me, hoping that it will trigger some noise to get attention if someone is living here.

Sure enough, I hear a few voices yelling, and the door opens slightly. I slide through them just as a roamer grabs my arm. I grab it hand and yank it through the door, tearing it in half. Something snatchs the weapons out of my hands and I black out within seconds, not knowing what's even remotely going on.

When I open my eyes, my forehead is covered in sweat and my breathing is heavy. I stare at the dark green mattress above me enough for me to remember that I'm not in the camp anymore. I jerk awake, sitting up in my spot. I instinctively reach for the holster on my belt, but it's not there.

I look around to discover that I'm locked in a jail cell. I almost snort at the irony. I slowly stand, incredibly tense. I know that more than one person is here and that I probably wouldn't be able to take them all, but I can at least go down fighting.

"Hello?" I call out. No answer. I say it louder, and hear a cell door slam. I crane my neck as far as I can to look in between the bars and a man comes into sight wearing a tan shirt and dark brown pants. He looks up and meets my eye with a cold stare. When he comes up to the cell, he keeps the stare.

"Thanks you," I blurt out, not dropping my gaze. His eyebrows furrow. "You're welcome." His voice is deep and low. "I'm gonna ask you three questions. If you answer them right, you can stay. If you don't… you're out." I nod, instantly agreeing. I have nowhere else to go.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Walkers? "You mean the things that attack you?" He nods, narrowing his eyes. I laugh humorlessly. "Too many than I ever wanted to," I mumble. His shoulders get square as his back straightens with the next question.

"How many people have you killed?" I blink. "Just one." I reply. A vein in his jaw ticks and I finally look down. "Why?" I hesitate before answering. "She was going to turn. I couldn't let her go through that." I state.

He seems to think about the answers before nodding and reaching into his pocket. "What's your name?" He pulls out keys and unlocks the door reluctantly. "Marie. Marie Sutton. You?" "Rick Grimes." Rick slides open the cell and I step out, looking around. "This is cellblock A. You'll be staying here with the rest of us."

"How old are you," he asks. "15." He smiles down at me before directing me towards the door. I wasn't surprised about the inside of the prison; I'd been in one before. Not as a prisoner, though.

"I have a son who's around that age. He's right outside." When Rick opens the door, I squint against the sunlight flooding into my eyes. I repeatedly blink before getting used to it. I gape at what I see.

Small places had been set up with tens of people just wandering around. I've never seen this many people before since the world went down. "Wow," I find myself whispering. Amusement shows up on Rick's face as I follow him down the grass and in between the water jugs.

Rick reaches down to feed them as I look out beyond the fences. "Do you guys have my weapons?" Rick freezes, then regains his composure. "Yeah. We still don't fully trust you enough to give them back yet," he answers honestly. I cross my arms and change the subject. "Who's butt do I need to kick for knocking me out?"

"That would be Daryl," he replies, a hint of a smile still on his lips.

Before I can say anything else, a boy runs up to us, about my height. His shaggy hair comes down to his chin and a sheriff hat lies on his head. He seems to approach me cautiously, but with a glare. I raise an eyebrow and he snaps out of it.

"Who is this?" He asks, no doubt referring to me. I blush. I've never been particularly good at talking to boys. Especially ones with shaggy brown hair and deep green eyes. "Carl, this is Marie. Marie, this is Carl." I lift my hand in an awkward wave and offer him a small smile. He pretty much ignores me. "Why don't you two go to story time?" Carl snorts, but I have no clue what story time is…

"That's for little kids. Incase you haven't noticed, I'm not a kid anymore." Rick sighs as he straightens and exits the pig pens. How they even have pigs, I will never know. "I know," Rick says cryptically. He walks away towards the fence, but Carl lingers behind. He turns to me. An awkward silence falls over us. "So he's y-your d-dad?" I ask. He meets my eyes and an amused smile shows up on his lips. He slowly shakes his head, obviously lost in thought. My brow furrows, but he's already turning around and walking towards the prison. What did I say…?

**A/N: ... I'm beginning to think that I have too many stories. To those who are following me... I know what you all are thinking. "Why are you writing a new story when you can barely even manage to update your other three?" The answer to that question would be, "I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING TO PUT IN THOSE STORIES!" I really have tried to think, but my mind comes up blank. Writer's block is very common. And I started this story because I just wanted to do a story for TWD that wasn't Bethyl for once. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE THAT COUPLE! But I just sorta wanted a change. Newbies: WELCOME TO KAMMAD42 LAND! All of my stories are TWD. This is the first non-Bethyl one, so if you love Bethyl, check out meh other stories! 1 REVIEW FOR THE NEXT UPDATE! YES I'M ACTUALLY SETTING A GOAL FOR YOU GUYS! MWAHAHAHAH! So... I'm really tired now. I have to get up at 5:30 in the morning now for school... I wanna sleep more! So... yeah! NEXT UPDATE AT 1 OR MORE REVIEWS! BYEEEEEEE!**


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